Fic: Blue Thunder--Chapter One
Jared Padalecki pulled up at the security booth in front of the brown brick building that housed the LAPD’s Air Support Division. He turned down his radio and gave his name and badge number to the guy in the booth.
The security guy was heavy set and looked close to retirement age and he eyed Jared suspiciously before checking his clipboard with a disgruntled air. Jared was apparently on the list, because he opened the boom gate with a sigh and waved Jared forward.
“Welcome to Air Support,” he said. “Flight crew’re on Level 3. Follow the signs and park in the marked bays only. Don’t park anywhere marked ‘reserved’.”
Jared followed his instructions and found an empty space for his silver Datsun. He turned his radio up again and sat for a moment with the engine idling, taking deep, steadying breaths and listening to Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean on the radio.
“I can do this,” he whispered to himself. “It’s going to be different this time.”
Jared had dreamed of becoming a police officer ever since he was a gangly eleven-year-old and a trio of San Antonio’s finest had come to talk to them in Middle School. Some of the other boys in his class had talked about how cool it would be to be able to tell everyone what to do and to shoot bad guys, but that wasn’t what had appealed to Jared. He wasn’t in it for power and glory; he truly wanted to protect and serve his community; to help keep the peace; to solve problems.
Only apparently he’d become the problem and the 77th precinct had solved it by moving him to the Air Support Division. He’d been due a promotion and this was a sideways move. Jared clenched his teeth. He could see a lot of sideways moves stretching out ahead of him and all because his fellow officers were a bunch of homophobic dicks.
On the radio, Billie Jean gave way to Maneater and Jared groaned, because that’s what all his former work colleagues at the 77th had seemed to think he was; some kind of man-devouring pervert. They were afraid he might grope them in the locker room; that they might catch AIDS if they used the urinal after him.
Bastards. Jared gritted his teeth. He didn’t have AIDS.
When he’d first come to California for college back in ’76, he’d been looking forward to investigating the abundance of gay nightclubs that LA had to offer; to going home with a different guy each night and having mind-blowing sex. His first day of college, he’d been handed a pamphlet about the rampant VD epidemic in the state and had decided that no glove, no love was probably a sensible personal policy. He’d lost a lot of potential hook ups because of that policy, but as it turned out that wasn’t such a big deal, because he’d also found out pretty quickly, that casual sex wasn’t really for him.
A chocolate brown Caprice pulled up a few spaces away and Jared ran a hand through his slightly-longer-than-regulation hair and took a deep breath, before switching off the engine and getting out of his car.
He followed the other officers to the elevators and when they hit the button for the flight deck, he nodded.
“You joining Air Support?” said one of the guys.
“Yeah,” Jared stuck his hand out. “Padalecki.”
“Pada what?”
“Padalecki,” he repeated. “Jared.”
His fellow officers shook his hand and introduced themselves, welcoming him to Air Support and making jokes about his height. Jared figured rumors about his sexuality hadn’t made it to Air Support yet; he didn’t dare hope that attitudes in this division were simply more enlightened than he was used to.
Jared’s new colleagues even walked him to the office of Captain Jim Beaver, a slightly portly bearded man in his late fifties who looked like he’d be more at home in oil-stained overalls and a ballcap than he looked in a beige suit and blue-striped tie.
“Welcome to Air Support, Son,” Beaver said, when Jared was seated opposite him in an uncomfortable brown vinyl chair. The office door was closed and the venetian blinds were adjusted for privacy. “In case you were wondering, I know all about your troubles at your old precinct.”
Jared’s stomach flip-flopped and he stared down at the cluttered desk, chewing at his lip.
“For the record,” Beaver said, “I don’t care what any of my officers do with their private parts, so long as they don’t do anything with ‘em during their shifts and they don’t fraternize with each other. I don’t care what color you are, what sex you are or what sex you have. I care about your ability to do your job. We’re a team here; a family; and I don’t tolerate bigots. You do your job, Son, ain’t no-one here gonna give you any grief, you have my word on that.”
“Yes, Sir,” Jared said. He had to admit, Captain Beaver’s speech had made him hopeful, but after his experiences at his old precinct he wasn’t going to be quick to judge the guys here.
At the 77th precinct, Jared’d had his locker glued shut, endured endless homophobic taunts and had other officers refuse to provide him with backup. Every time he’d walked into the locker room, everyone else had walked out, their lips curled in disgust. Just the thought that Beaver might be right, that his new colleagues might be friendly and treat him with respect, made Jared feel as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
“All right, then,” Captain Beaver said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “I got you paired with Ackles. He’s a Vietnam vet. Can be a little,” Beaver inclined his head and appeared to be searching for the right word, “a little jumpy. But he’s a good pilot. And a good officer. Mostly.”
Jared raised an eyebrow. “I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me, Sir,” he ventured.
“Don’t tell me,” Beaver said dryly, “you’re plannin’ on being a detective some day?”
He didn’t seem mad, but Jared hoped he hadn’t overstepped his bounds. “Yes, Sir,” he said. “I hope so.”
Captain Beaver sighed. “I suppose if you’re gonna be his partner, I should,” he trailed off with another sigh. “I mentioned Ackles was a little jumpy? Well he’s also cynical as hell, prone to angry outbursts and pretty Goddamn reckless. I can’t get anyone to work with him anymore and, well, seeing as how you were having the same problem back at your old precinct, I thought maybe you’d make a good team.”
Jared stared at Beaver’s slightly flushed face. The man appeared to be some combination of embarrassed and concerned and Jared realized that the old man genuinely liked this Ackles guy. Pairing him with Jared was a Hail Mary pass aimed at saving the man’s career. It seemed Jared was just having his career saved on the other man’s coat-tails.
“Okay,” he said. “When do I meet my new partner?”
--
Jensen Ackles was standing in the middle of the locker room with his flight suit done up to his waist and a white tee-shirt covering his chest. His eyes were closed and his watch was counting down sixty seconds. His CO, back in ‘nam had once told him that if you really and truly genuinely went over the edge, the first thing to go would be your sense of time. So Jensen made sure that he could still tell what sixty seconds felt like, several times a day; his own quick and dirty version of a sanity check.
“Ackles,” Jim Beaver called and Jensen held up one finger.
If anyone other than Jim had been his Captain, Jensen would’ve been bounced from the force long ago. Luckily for Jensen, Jim Beaver had known him since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. He’d lived next door to the Ackles family back home in Texas and for some reason had taken it upon himself to fill the role that Jensen’s own father had mostly been too drunk to do.
Jensen opened his eyes just as the timer on his watch finished its countdown. He smiled and then looked up at his captain and a very tall young guy.
“What’s up, Sir?” Jensen figured it wouldn’t hurt to show some manners, given that he’d just been woefully insubordinate in front of company.
“New partner,” Jim said. “Ackles, Padalecki. Padalecki, Ackles.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” the tall guy grinned and stuck out a hand.
Jensen stared at him and his fucking dimples, before turning back to Jim.
“What happened to Garcia?” he asked.
Pada…whatever dropped his hand, dimples disappearing and brow furrowing.
Jim rubbed at his chin. “Danay transferred to Day Shift, remember?”
Yeah. Jensen remembered.
He’d forgotten where he was on a flight last week, got a little caught up in his head, and…it hadn’t been dangerous, not really, but apparently he’d been flying far too low over the freeway and he’d said some shit that had really freaked Garcia out. She’d taken a couple days off and when she’d come back she’d told him that she was going to transfer to days so that she could spend more time with her kids. And get the Hell away from your damaged ass before you kill me, was implied rather than spoken out loud, but Jensen had heard it loud and clear. It wasn’t the first time he’d been dumped by his partner, not by a long shot.
“Oh,” Jensen said lightly, shrugging into the arms of his flight suit. “Was that starting today?”
Jim’s lips were firmly pressed together. He shook his head and then turned on his heel and strode out of the locker room.
“You’re just gonna dump Padawookie on me and run?” Jensen called after him.
“You’re a big boy, Jensen, you’ll cope,” Jim called back.
Jensen sighed. “Outstanding.”
He glanced up at Padawookie, who was looking so wide-eyed and nervous that Jensen almost felt sorry for him.
“So, kid, you ever flown in a chopper before?”
Padawookie’s eyes got even bigger and more soulful looking.
“Not as such,” he said. “I’ve practiced in simulators and I’m a total tech geek. I’ve got what it takes to be your Observer, Sir. I promise.”
Jensen raised an eyebrow. “I’m your partner, not your CO, so do not ‘sir’ me.”
Padawookie flicked him a salute. “Okay, Partner.”
Jensen grimaced. “Jensen,” he said. “You can call me Jensen.”
Padawookie grinned and stuck his hand out again and this time, Jensen shook it.
“Jared,” Padawookie said.
“What?” Jensen was a little distracted by how big the man’s hands were.
“My name. It’s Jared. Padalecki.”
“Pada…?”
“lecki. Padalecki. Jared.”
“Jared,” Jensen nodded. “Okay, then. Let’s go get our bird in the air.”
--
Life, Jared decided was just unfair. Why couldn’t his pilot have been some squat, snub-nosed middle-aged man with a receding hairline, a beer gut and bad skin?
The last thing Jared needed was to have to spend his nights in close quarters with Air Support’s candidate for sexiest man alive. Whenever Jensen looked into his eyes, Jared had to think really hard about the way his grandma’s dentures flapped in and out of her mouth when she spoke, in order to avoid popping a boner. How was he going to avoid making his crush obvious when he was destined to spend so many hours confined with Jensen in a small cockpit?
Oh God, Jared admonished himself. Do not think the word cockpit. Do not think the word joystick. And stop thinking of him as Jensen. Sure, he’d been invited to call his partner by his first name, but Jared couldn’t help imagining himself groaning out the name in the throes of passion and he needed to steer clear of those kinds of thoughts.
Officer Ackles, Officer Ackles, Jared repeated to himself over and over again. He was trying so hard to avoid watching Ackles’s ass as he strode ahead of Jared out onto the helipad that he bumped into one of the maintenance crew and dropped both his helmet and his papers.
“Shit!” he scrambled to pick up the papers before the rotors of half a dozen helicopters preparing to take off scattered them in the wind.
The maintenance guy helped him collect everything. “You flyin’ with Ackles?” he said.
When Jared said that he was, the man shook his head and ran a hand across his floppy, greying moustache. “That guy should be grounded,” he said gruffly, his mouth pulling into a thin line. “Personally, I wouldn’t fly with him for a bull that pissed Jack Daniels.”
“Right,” Jared said, taking the last of the papers from the other man. He felt strangely protective of his new partner and wanted to say something to defend him, but for all he knew, the other man was absolutely right. “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he ended up saying. “Sorry,” he waved the papers. “Thanks for helping me.”
“Don’t mention it,” the guy said. “Oh, hey,” Jared turned back to face him. “At about 10.00 o’clock, ask him to show you Encino.” The guy winked and then turned away with a wave.
By the time Jared made it to their chopper, Ackles was already strapped in, with his helmet and his aviator sunglasses on. As soon as Jared was strapped in too he began to push buttons and flick at levers, his feet pumping back and forth on the foot pedals.
“You all set?” he asked, as Jared juggled papers and adjusted his headset.
“Yes. Yes, Sir,” Jared said.
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
“Well, all right then,” Ackles reached out with his left hand and pulled the collective control up, putting the helicopter into the air.
Jared spent some time coming to grips with the radio he was responsible for operating, at the same time trying to ‘observe’ for Ackles.
“So, Padaleski,” Ackles said.
“Padalecki,” Jared interrupted.
“Right. What brings you to Air Support?”
Jared sucked in a breath. What should he tell his new partner? The whole truth? A part truth? Or some BS story?
He shrugged. “I’ve always been a tech nerd. And…I dunno, I kinda like the idea of being up here above it all. No guns, no kicking in doors, you know?”
“Uh huh,” Ackles didn’t quite roll his eyes, but Jared thought it was a close thing.
Jared pressed the binoculars to his eyes and gazed down at the bright lights of Los Angeles, the city that never sleeps, full of people scurrying around like ants in an ant colony.
“What d’you think they’re all doing down there?” he speculated idly.
Ackles harrumphed. “According to the latest statistics about one million seven hundred and seventy five thousand of them are fucking like bunnies.”
“Oh,” Jared said awkwardly. The absolute last thing he wanted to think about right here, right now was sex.
Ackles flashed him a sideways grin and then his tongue darted out and licked quickly at his lips. “The rest of ‘em are just watching Laverne and Shirley,” he said.
Jared laughed, more to relieve the tension than because the comment was funny. He refocused on the view through his binoculars and then frowned when an activity caught his attention.
“I’ve got a black guy in a beanie down there,” he said, “Looks like he’s selling dope out of a van.”
“Huh,” Ackles said. “Is it a red beanie?”
Jared nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
Ackles took the helicopter past at a distance, not pausing or swooping in lower. “He’s one of ours,” he said. “Narcotics division. Undercover. It should be mentioned in the daily brief,” he nodded at the bundle of papers still sitting on Jared’s lap.
“Oh,” Jared let the binoculars fall around his neck and began to scramble through the papers. He was interrupted by a call. “Air 12, Air 12 we have a 2-11 in progress at the liquor store at Burbank and Vineland. Suspect is a Caucasian male in an orange shirt and a cowboy hat.”
Ackles snorted. “Subtle.”
“He’s armed,” the dispatcher continued, “and he has a hostage.”
Jared looked at Ackles. “Well?” Ackles said. “What are you waiting for? Call it in.”
Jared did just that and received a smile and a nod from Ackles, which made him feel warm all over.
“Is that our guy?” Jared dropped the binoculars and pointed. “See him? He just shoved that black woman over and ran across the road!”
“I see him,” Ackles said, picking up the suspect in the helicopter’s headlight as the man narrowly avoided being hit by a white Ford Mustang.
The guy saw the helicopter and fled toward a nearby junkyard. He leapt up onto a dumpster and began to scale the fence.
“Hit ‘im with the searchlight,” Ackles said, so Jared did.
“Man,” Ackles chuckled, as the suspect flipped over the fence and landed on his ass. “Guy looks like a rodeo clown. Whatever happened to inconspicuous?”
Two police cruisers screeched to a stop in front of the shop that’d just been held up.
“Air Support to Ground Patrol,” Jared said into the loud hailer, “Your guy’s gone over the fence into the junkyard.”
Ackles took the chopper down lower and Jared pinned the suspect with the search light. When the clown pulled a handgun and fired at them, Jared ducked instinctively and swore out loud. “He’s firing at us!”
Ackles chuckled. “Welcome to Air Support,” he said.
One of the ground patrol officers appeared on top of the fence and the suspect spotted him, turning and pointing his gun. Ackles swore and immediately swooped down, so that the chopper was right on top of the suspect.
“Gonna dust ‘im,” he explained to Jared, and that really was an appropriate term, Jared thought, because the helicopter kicked up so much dust that the suspect was immediately lost in a storm of sand and grit. He dropped his gun and put his hands over his face, struggling to keep the choking dust out of his eyes, nose and mouth. Ackles then moved the chopper back so that the ground patrol officer, who had now successfully navigated his way over the fence, could approach the suspect. Jared watched as he kicked the gun away and then tackled the man to the ground, pinning his arms behind him and handcuffing him, his lips moving all the while. Jared was too far away to make out what he was saying, but he assumed he was reading him his rights.
“And our work here is done,” Ackles said, giving the ground patrol officer a lazy salute and pulling the helicopter away from the scene.
The sun had set while they’d been responding to the last call and Ackles took off his sunglasses and put them in the door panel pocket, before giving Jared a brief smile. To Jared, his partner appeared calm, relaxed and serene. He was clearly at home in the helicopter cabin and Jared really wanted to know why others in Air Support thought he should be grounded. He side-eyed the other man and chewed at his bottom lip.
“What?” Ackles said.
“I was just wondering,” Jared said. “Earlier, in the locker room, with the watch. What was that?”
Ackles’s face tightened, almost imperceptibly, and he busied himself checking gauges and fiddling with buttons and levers. Jared thought his partner wasn’t going to answer, but then he made a very obvious effort to calm himself again and half turned to Jared.
“It’s a sort of a … test,” he said.
“Of what?”
Ackles rubbed a hand up and down his thigh and Jared tracked the movement. Ackles was nervous and trying not to show it.
“You’ve heard about me, right? The burnout? The crazy vet? A few sandwiches short of a picnic? The elevator doesn’t go up to the top floor anymore?”
Jared’s stomach tightened painfully and his intake of breath was audible in the confines of the cabin.
“Captain Beaver might’ve mentioned that no-one wants to fly with you anymore,” he admitted.
“And you’re not curious as to why that is?”
Jared met the challenge in Ackles’s eyes. “I’m very curious,” he said, “but I figure you’ll tell me when I’ve earned your trust, so I’m happy to wait.”
Ackles broke eye contact and looked back out at the empty sky in front of them.
Jared barely dared to breathe.
“Okay,” Ackles said after a moment. “The thing with the watch, it’s a sort of a sanity test. If you get too caught up in your own head, you start to lose time. Can’t keep track of it, you know. I just…before I fly, and any time I’m feeling…tense…I just like to check that I know the difference between 60 seconds and 60 minutes. That’s all.”
Jared nodded. “Okay. Makes sense.”
Ackles turned and stared at him for a moment and then smirked. “So what about you?” he said. “What did you do to end up stuck with the guy nobody wants to fly with?”
Jared really should’ve been expecting the question, but he wasn’t, at all, and he tensed up completely.
And then his stomach rumbled loudly. Ackles laughed, but it sounded a little strained.
“Don’t tell me you’re hungry already?” he said.
“Yeah,” Jared latched onto the topic like the lifeline it was. He patted his stomach. “This monster’s a bottomless pit.”
“Oh God,” Ackles groaned. “I get it now. You’re gassy aren’t you? No-one wanted to be stuck in a cruiser with you after your six burritos for lunch. I’m right aren’t I?”
Jared shrugged. “I guess you’ll find out after we stop for supper.”
Ackles slapped a hand against his forehead. “Note to self. Buy air freshener during supper break.”
The next couple of hours passed uneventfully. They chatted about football and basketball and the fact that they were both originally from Texas.
“Man, I miss Texan barbecue,” Jared said wistfully.
“I know right?” Ackles nodded sagely. “Californians think they can grill, but, man, some of the crap they try to pass off as sauces…don’t even get me started.” He sighed. “You just can’t get that sweet, smoky brisket taste outside of Texas.”
“And speaking of sauces, what’s with the Tex-mex out here?” Jared said. “The sauces are terrible, there’s no melted cheese on anything and a lot of places don’t even have queso!”
Ackles was nodding again. “Can’t get breakfast tacos either,” he said mournfully.
“Or kolaches,” Jared said with a sigh. “I’ve got my fridge full of Lone Star Beer, and Bluebell ice-cream in my freezer, but, man, I miss home so much sometimes.”
“I hear you,” Ackles said. “So what brought you to La La land?”
“I wanted to go to college out of state,” Jared shrugged. “Texas was a little too conservative for me. How about you?”
Ackles rubbed at the back of his neck. “Same as you. I came out here for college, mostly because Jim was here. We were neighbors, back home in Texas when I was a kid and he was always good to me, so,” Ackles shrugged. “Seemed like the thing to do.”
“Captain Beaver mentioned that you were in Vietnam,” Jared said carefully.
Ackles side-eyed him briefly and then nodded. “Yep.”
“You joined up after college?”
“Yeah. I went to Officer Candidates School, then Basic training, then Flight training. Caught the tail end of the war.”
“No offense,” Jared said, “but you don’t look old enough to have been in Vietnam.”
Ackles raised an eyebrow. “I’m thirty-six.”
Jared’s mouth fell open. His partner looked like an underwear model. He couldn’t possibly be only a few years shy of forty. “No way,” he said. “There’s no way you’re ten years older than me!”
Ackles smirked. “What can I say? I’m like a fine wine. I get better every year.”
Jared really couldn’t argue with that.
Jensen flew their patrol zone, crossing from one sector to another in a pattern that he was clearly familiar with. Jared observed the city below them through the binoculars, reporting a couple of abandoned cars, one which didn’t even have plates, and guiding a ground patrol crew to some kind of gang dispute which looked like it was about to get ugly.
Jensen looked at his watch. “We’re not far from Van Nuys Airport,” he said. “You wanna take a Code 7?”
Jared grinned and rubbed at his belly. “I never say no to food.”
Ackles cleared his throat and it might have just been Jared’s imagination, but he thought the older man looked a little flushed as he mumbled something about there being a Subway and a Chinese place not far from the airport.
Jared called in to Central, letting them know that Air 12 was taking a meal break and then his stomach rumbled loudly. “Man, I’m starved,” he said. “Can’t wait to get a foot-long sandwich in me! What about you, Jensen? You want a foot long or six inches?”
“I, uh,” Jensen rubbed the back of his neck and then cleared his throat again. “Think I’ll have Chinese.”
--
It was a little before 10.00pm when they took off again from Van Nuys airport, pleasantly stuffed full of Chinese dumplings, because Ackles had been strangely intent on avoiding Subway and Jared would eat anything. “Oh, hey,” Jared said, as they took to the air. “I was told to ask you about Encino at around ten o’clock?”
Ackles chuckled. “Oh yeah. Encino. Now that was something I couldn’t do with Garcia.”
Jared frowned. “Why not?”
But Ackles just smirked and told him that he’d see soon enough.
Jared sat tight, intrigued but not worried. When Ackles began to lower the chopper over an eight story condo complex in Encino, he shot the older man a bemused expression.
“Why are we here?” he asked. “It’s way out of our patrol area.”
“We’re here for the view,” Ackles replied.
Jared raised his eyebrows and looked down at the complex below. It was a nice complex of condominiums, with impressive palm-tree lined gardens and a huge swimming pool, but really, the view wasn’t worth a special trip.
“I don’t get it,” he told Ackles.
Ackles dropped the helicopter a little lower and hovered. “Third window from the right,” he said. “Go ahead and look with the binoculars.”
Jared peered through the glasses and almost dropped them immediately.
“Jesus Christ, Ackles! There’s a naked woman in there doing yoga!”
Ackles grinned. “I know, right?”
“You know? You know? Then why the hell are we spying on her? That’s fucked up, Ackles, that’s a total breach of privacy! We’re being peeping toms, Ackles, and that’s…it’s fucking illegal! Get us out of here!”
“Jared?” Ackles was peering at him with genuine concern. “Breathe, buddy. It’s okay. She knows we’re here. She’s a total exhibitionist, likes to put on a show.”
“Yeah,” Jared was trying really hard not to picture his mama’s reaction if she heard he’d been kicked off the force for spying on a naked woman in her bedroom. “Well what about the guy in the next condo? He’s staring out his window at us and he’s not looking too happy. A lot of people don’t like the LAPD hovering outside their bedroom window late at night, you know.”
“Alright, alright, I’m getting us outta here,” Ackles pulled the chopper away. “Man,” he said, “what red-blooded American boy is gonna miss the opportunity for a free peep show?”
Jared scowled at him.
“First I get a female Observer,” Ackles muttered, “then I get a Boy Scout from Texas who’s scared of what his mama might think.”
“I’m not scared of my mama,” Jared said. “I’m just not interested.”
The moment the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back and he knew his sudden panic was showing on his face.
Ackles looked puzzled for a moment and then his eyes widened. “Oh,” he said.
Jared prepared himself for disgust and derision. Instead, Ackles lowered his eyes and chewed on his bottom lip. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “Not interested in being a dick or not interested in someone who doesn’t have a dick?”
Jared’s throat almost closed up in panic and he couldn’t speak. He stared at Ackles and tried to focus on his breathing.
“It’s okay, Jared,” Ackles said soothingly. “I don’t care if you’re gay. I…it’s not a problem.”
Jared gulped in air and then smiled shakily. “It was a problem at my last precinct.”
Ackles grinned. “Yeah, well, the 77th is full of assholes, everybody knows that. You’re my partner, kiddo, and I got your back, no matter what.”
Jared was so relieved he had to fight back tears. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with gratitude. “Can you do me one favor, though?”
“It’s okay,” Jensen said, “I won’t tell anyone.”
Jared nodded. “Thanks, but I was going to say, please don’t call me kiddo. Not unless you want me calling you old man.”
Ackles scrunched up his nose and Jared tried not to see it as totally adorable.
“Deal,” Ackles said.
The radio chose that moment to squawk to life. “All units in the vicinity, we have a rape in progress, 87-92 Lindum Road.”
“Isn’t that near where we saw that abandoned brown Chevy earlier?” Jared said. “The one without plates?”
Ackles’s face was stony as he pulled away. “Call it in, Jared.”
Lindum Road was a well-to-do area. The houses were big, well set back from the street, and most had swimming pools and pool houses. The scene when they arrived at 87-92 was chaotic.
There were two ground patrol cruisers parked in the driveway of a big house and they were chasing two men who were fleeing the scene on foot, carrying a briefcase. The men were firing at the police and the police were returning fire and Jared wasn’t sure who he should shine the searchlight on first. Then one of the suspects was shot in the back and was flung into the swimming pool, which immediately began to turn red.
“Oh God,” Jared swallowed.
“Oh yeah, he’s bought it,” Ackles said. “Get the searchlight on the other guy.”
Jared complied quickly, pausing when the searchlight caught the victim, who was slumped beside her car, clutching her abdomen and breathing heavily.
“Huh,” he said. “Didn’t the call say this was a rape?”
“Yeah,” Ackles said. “Looks more like a stabbing and a robbery. Get Central to send an ambulance and then get the searchlight on the other guy.”
The other suspect was trying to climb the fence and when the searchlight landed on him he swung around and began firing randomly. A single shot from one of the ground patrol officers brought him to the ground, his arms flung out like Jesus on the cross. The briefcase flew from his hands as he fell, papers spilling out and flying around like Fall leaves in the wind when the briefcase burst open in mid-air.
Suddenly, the helicopter started to spiral downwards, losing altitude and Jared looked quickly at Ackles. The pilot’s face was glistening with sweat and his eyes were distant and vacant.
“Sir?” Jared barely managed to keep the alarm from his voice. “Were you hit?”
He put a hand to Ackles’s arm and the man flinched away violently.
“What’s wrong?” Jared said. “Is the chopper okay? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Ackles cleared his throat and steadied the chopper. “Yeah, I’m fine. Hope that ambulance gets here soon. The vic’s not looking... Oh fuck.”
Jared followed his gaze and saw the brown Chevy that he’d called in as abandoned earlier, rammed into the back of the victim’s car.
Jared met his partner’s eyes. “Guess it wasn’t abandoned after all,” he said, his voice bleak. “Did we… if we’d been in our patrol zone instead of…”
“Probably wouldn’t have made any difference,” Ackles said. “We wouldn’t have been over this sector, even if we’d been in the zone.”
Jared nodded. “I hope she makes it.”
--
When they landed back at the Air Support Heliport, Dispatch checked them back in and then told them that the old man wanted to see them, right away.
Jared’s eyes widened immediately and Jensen tried to look reassuring, even though he was feeling a little like he’d just been summoned to the Principal’s office himself.
Captain Beaver got up from his desk when they walked into his office. He shut the door behind them and glared out of his office windows at all of the personnel sitting out in the open plan office, staring in as if they’d really like to settle back with popcorn and watch the show.
Giving the team a final scowl he turned back to face Jensen, who took one look at his Captain’s face and immediately stood to attention. Beside him, Jensen could feel Jared tensing.
Captain Beaver stalked back to his side of the desk and picked up a brown folder which he slapped against his hand for emphasis.
“Do you boys know what I hate most about this job?” he asked.
“No, Sir,” Jared said.
Jensen picked a spot on the wall behind Jim and stared at it. He knew the question was rhetorical, so he didn’t bother to answer.
“Taking complaints from Joe Public,” Captain Beaver said. “I particularly hate it when some rich suit with an expensive condo calls to complain that one of my helicopters was hovering outside his bedroom window, disturbing his sleep. I sure hope I don’t get a phone call from the Chief asking me to explain why one of my helicopters was outside of its patrol zone, hovering around bedroom windows in Encino, while Commissioner Loretta Devine was getting stabbed in the driveway of her very own home, which coincidentally, is deep within the patrol zone of the aforementioned helicopter.”
He threw the file he’d been holding down on his desk and it flopped open, showing a picture of the victim, attached to a crime report.
“Devine, Lindum Road?” Jensen said. “That’s her?”
Jim sat down, drew a tired hand over his face and then nodded. “Commissioner of the Mayor’s special task force on urban violence. A little touch of irony for you there, Jensen. I know you like that kind of thing.”
Jensen wrinkled his nose. “How is she?”
“She was stabbed, Jensen. She’s in intensive care, and with a wound like that to her abdomen,” Jim shook his head. “It’s not looking good. She was stabbed in the stomach by one of the rapists.”
“No, Sir,” Jensen shook his head. “There wasn’t any rape. This was a straight forward assault and robbery.”
“Yeah? Well that’s not what they’re calling it Downtown. Assault, battery and attempted rape is the official line.”
Jensen frowned. “Well that’s just plain wrong. That abandoned car we called in? The Chevy? That was a stakeout.”
Captain Beaver cut him off. “It was a makeout, Jensen. A couple of kids who couldn’t afford a No-tell Motel. Look, son, the case is closed. We’ve got a couple of toe-tags down in the morgue. It’s over.”
“Really?” Jensen scowled. “So it doesn’t bother you that the Chevy had no tags? That it was sitting out the front of Devine’s place for hours before it rammed her car? That rapists don’t travel in pairs? That-”
“I’ll tell you what bothers me,” Jim stood up, knuckled fists resting on his desk and his voice loud and angry, “It bothers me that some bright-eyed sonofabitch might get the idea to ask what you were doing five miles outta your assigned patrol zone, that’s what bothers me!”
“Sir,” Jared said.
Jim didn’t break eye contact with Jensen. “If I’m talkin’ to you Padalecki, I’ll be lookin’ at you,” he growled.
“Yessir, sorry, Sir,” Jared said. “I just wanted to say that it was my fault, Sir. People were talking about Encino and I was curious, so I asked Officer Ackles to show me what they were talking about.”
Captain Beaver finally broke eye contact with Jensen and turned to glower at Jared. “You think I haven’t heard about that silly twit out in Encino? I’d already had twenty years’ experience in this outfit when your idea of a good time was watching Sesame Street in your diapers while sucking on your thumb!”
The image made Jensen snigger, which brought him back under Jim’s spotlight. “And in case you’ve forgotten, Officer Ackles, there are people in this community who do not like police officers. And they especially don’t like the idea of police helicopters flying over their homes and peeking in their windows. Something like this could cause a scandal so big it’d burn my whole damn division, so I gotta be seen to take a stand,” Jim put his hands in his pockets and looked from Jensen to Jared and then back again. He blew out air and then shook his head. “You’re grounded,” he said. “Both of you.”
“Grounded?” Jensen gaped.
“Yeah,” Jim said. “I gotta find somewhere to hide you both for a couple weeks until all this blows over,” he looked up at Jared. “Get outta here, Padalecki. You’re dismissed.”
“Yessir,” Jared turned quickly and headed for the door.
“Oh and Padalecki?”
Jared turned.
“Get a Goddamn haircut.”
Jared blinked. “Yessir.”
“Oh no,” Jim said, when Jensen made to follow his partner. “We ain’t finished yet, Jensen.”
Jim waited until Jared was well away from his office and then said, “How’s he workin’ out?”
“Good,” Jensen said, leaning back against Jim’s closed office door and crossing his ankles. “I take it you knew?”
“Knew what?”
Jensen bit down on his bottom lip. “He came out to me. Didn’t mean to, actually pretty near had a panic attack over it when he realized he’d just outed himself.”
“So what the hell did you take him to that peep show over in Encino for, then?”
Jensen shook his head. “It happened after that. Actually, that’s pretty much what triggered it. For the record, the kid damn near read me the riot act for breaching a citizen’s privacy. He’s one of the good guys, Jim.”
Jim sat back down at his desk and folded his hands as if in prayer. “And how are you feeling?” he asked.
“Fine,” Jensen said.
“Did you, uh, reciprocate?”
Jensen looked hard at the man who was not only his boss, but his surrogate father too. “What do you mean?”
Jim fidgeted uncomfortably. “When Padalecki told you…you know. Did you-”
Jensen straightened up. “There’s my private life,” he said, “and then there’s my working life and I would’ve thought that you of all people would be encouraging me to keep them separate.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “I’m not suggesting you date him, just talk to him. Let him in a little.”
Jensen stared at Jim, his expression stony. “Was there anything else, Sir?”
Jim sighed and lowered his head. “Yes, actually. The, uh, Review Board wants to have you up for Psychiatric re-evaluation.”
“Oh come on,” Jensen tipped his head back in frustration.
“Don’t tell me you’re surprised, Jensen. What did you expect after your wig out last week?”
Jensen shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry about that, okay, but I don’t need some damn head shrink trying to-”
“It’s outta my hands,” Jim interrupted. “Look, son, I know every instinct you got is telling you not to talk about what’s going on inside that melon of yours, but you’re messed up and those instincts of yours are just plain wrong. You gotta let it out. You gotta let someone in.”
“Yessir,” Jensen said insincerely. “Can I go now?”
Jim told him that he was dismissed and Jensen managed to resist the temptation to slam his office door when he left. He stalked from the offices down into the car park with an impressive scowl that kept everyone at bay and he didn’t start to relax until he slid behind the wheel of his baby, a sleek black 1967 Chevrolet Impala. He tore out of the parking lot like he had hellhounds on his tail, shot past the security booth, and then slammed the accelerator down and fishtailed up the road at speed, trying desperately to burn all the adrenalin out of his system. If he didn’t get rid of all the anger and turmoil churning through his body, Jensen knew from bitter experience that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not without a few too many shots of Jack Daniels, anyway, and if there was one thing in life that truly terrified Jensen, it was the prospect that he might end up a drunk, just like his old man.
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